


Sanctuary

by Ingi



Series: I’ll let you know that all this time I’ve been afraid [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Developing Relationship, Erejean Week, Erejean Week 2015, Fluff and Angst, French-Speaking Jean Kirstein, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Winter, jean in glasses, painter Jean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 19:59:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3542021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingi/pseuds/Ingi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>~ Sanctuary: a small safe place in a troubling world. ~</p><p>Eren doesn't always see the things that are in front of him, and when you're 'not-dating' Jean fucking Kirstein, that's a clear disadvantadge. Not that it matters; leave it to Jean to drag him out of himself when he's lost and find him a better place to stay.</p><p>(#Jean being helpful for once; #Eren has a hell lot of nightmares; #Basically Jean singing in French because headcanon; #Jean does a lot of shit and Eren feels a lot; #Even more swearing than usual because angry babies)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, I'm still using songs from Imagine Dragons. In my defense I'll say the lyrics are way too cool.  
> This one is "Bleeding out".
> 
> Also, as stated in the tags, apparently I have a lot of Jean headcanons to explore while Eren sits around being gorgeous and having a lot of feels (perhaps it's because of the lack of Jean's exploration in the fandom? maybe I'm just weird). I tried to hold it back, but things get out of hand very quickly when creativity is involved, so upps, sorry (not really, I enjoyed it wildly, even if it didn't turn out like I planned it to).

_When the hour is nigh_  
_and hopelessness is sinking in,_  
_and the wolves all cry_  
_to fill the night with hollering._  
_When your eyes are red_  
_and emptiness is all you know,_  
_with the darkness fed_  
_I will be your scarecrow._

A few days before their first battle for the Survey Corps, when everybody was sleeping, Eren tiptoed down his bunk and towards Jean's, only to find he was already waiting for him.

The light of the full moon made his face even paler, turning his open eyes into the focus of attention; they were unusually serene and seemed to spread through immeasurable distances, like those plains of sand Armin had told him about, those so beautiful but deadly, those in which only the strongest creatures could survive. Eren wanted to be one of them, wallow in that arid inmensity and bathe in the warm sand. Until he had spoken with Armin about the desert, he hadn't known that expression, 'escaping like sand through your fingers', but nowadays he couldn't think in anything more accurate to describe what Jean did (apparently, the most commun phrase said water, not sand, but the latter was better in Eren's case, since it was said to leave a raw feeling behind as it seeped away).

It wasn't an easy task, figuring Jean out, but he would do anything to earn the right to live in that desert his eyes were. He knew he could be a valiant plant which rooted deeply to hang on life in that extreme barrenness, he knew he would. Armin said the desert was a cruel place, but Eren didn't believe him, because the forces of nature weren't cruel, they just _were_ ; so was the desert, and so was Jean.

He laid slowly by Jean's side, facing him, and held his gaze for a while ( _if he were the desert, would I be a storm?_ ). "Jean" he finally said in a tiny, tiny whisper. Jean said nothing, but kept looking at him, expressionless aside from a slight frown which Eren assumed was from puzzlement, so he asked "Are you afraid?"

Jean hesitated, closed his eyes briefly ( _don't, look at me, Jean, please look at me_ ), and then glared at him in a way that said 'don't dare to take advantage of what I say or I'll fucking kill you' (the sleepiness kept him unguarded, though, so Eren didn't complain). "I think I am" he said, barely a whisper against the shell of his ear, and Eren shivered. "I am, I'm afraid. Are you?"

"No" Eren replied, and it was only after he spoke when he realised it was a lie. Jean must have sensed it, or maybe it was just casuality, but he wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer; it was the first time he'd even done that, and Eren wasn't about to waste the moment. He buried his face in his neck and breathed in, suddenly recognizing the scent that he sometimes felt as Jean's, and it was quite odd he hadn't noticed before, but minds worked in strange ways and his even more so (besides, he didn't really care, not when it was still soothing and familiar and made his chest ache nicely).

He fell asleep like that, pressing his body against Jean's as much as it was humanly possible. He had quiet nightmares, which were the worst of all, because when he woke up he was always drenched in cold sweat and couldn't remember anything else but how they had made him feel (it was never a good feeling; anguish, at best).  
That morning, he came back to his senses with a hand gently stroking his nape, although it stopped as soon as he gave signs of being awake. He had slipped a bit down Jean's body and his face rested against his upper chest; Jean's shirt was slightly damp, and he had to draw back to realise his face was also wet and that it was because of tears.

Eren looked up and, in an impulse, kissed Jean on the corner of his lips. He pushed him away, but was smiling even as he muttered "You haven't even opened your mouth yet and I already know your breath stinks".

"Shuddup, Horseface" Eren groaned, slapping his chest without real heat (or force; he wasn't at his best at mornings, alright?).

"You shut up, arse, you drooled all over me" Jean insisted, and Eren instantly knew he was just pretending not to have noticed he had been crying in his sleep; it was unclear why he was doing it, but he was grateful. He took it as a cue to rinse his tears discretely, covering it up as rubbing his eyes, and that made Jean look disturbed for some reason.

"You're awake too early" he complained. Jean shrugged.

"I had a bad feeling" he confessed quietly after a while. "My eyes flew open about an hour ago with no reason at all. There's something in the atmosphere, don't you feel it?"

Eren did, in fact. If he stayed still and unaware of anything that wasn't the sound of blood in his ears, he could felt a lot of things better (the slow beating of Jean's heart was one of them, one of his favourites), like the strangely charged atmosphere that surrounded them; it made him upset from the bottom of his stomach, and his eyes were blurred by tears if he breathed in for too long. "Yeah. But it doesn't mean anything" he was quick to add.

"No, it doesn't" Jean agreed serenely, but his face showed he was wondering. "I guess."

It wouldn't take much for him to learn not to dismiss hunches that easily, though. Later, after they had managed to disentangle from each other, they were sitting in front of the other in the dining hall and there was a thick discomfort hanging around the room, even as conversations flew from one point of the table to another.

"What's the deal with everybody today?" Connie suddenly asked, interrupting a not-so-interesting discussion about the benefits of peeled potatoes against unpeeled. Needless to add, Sasha was following the debate anxiously, and that made Eren smile to himself.

"You noticed? They're all gloomy" Reiner nodded.

"It's not like someone had died or anything" Sasha gestured carelessly, and oh, that was bad, because that hadn't been a possibility in Eren's mind before but it was now, and it precisely didn't make him all cheerful (people couldn't die when he hadn't been there to protect them, they couldn't, they damn couldn't...). "And back to the potat-..." she interrupted herself, probably when she noticed the shocked expressions around her. "Oh."

"No one has died!" Eren all but yelled, waving his arms around as if to shoo the thought away.

"The haggard faces of the 101st and 102nd squads beg to differ" Marco said very softly, eyes nailed on his untouched food, and that was when Eren was sure they were in deep shit.

"Not you too, Marco!" Sasha whimpered, stretching an arm before Jean to reach him and clutch his shirt. "Jean, say something!"

"You're digging your own grave, Blouse" he replied, frowning, and slapped her arm away to free Marco from her iron grip. "What else could it be? Anybody knows for sure which squads went to the advance party?"

"The 99th, the 101st, and the 102nd" Bertolt answered from where he was sitting, by Reiner's side.

"They're fine! Everybody's fine!" Eren insisted, progressively sounding more and more desperate, and not even himself knew why he was making such a fuss ( _and for a lost cause, too_ , a whispering voice in his head kindly pointed out), but he suddenly cared very deeply for those squads and just _couldn't_ believe they were dead, it simply wasn't possible. A detached part of him, which was observing him from outside in a fairly cold way, recognized he was swiftly panicking, but he couldn't find the strength in him to stop it.

Mikasa, always thoughtful, rested a soft hand on top of his under the table and shook her head. She was protective enough to go outside the walls to bring the missing recruits back from the wilds and the dead ones from death, to prevent him from freaking out; if _only_ that were possible. But it wasn't, it damn wasn't, and the palms of his hands were sweating, but he didn't bother wiping them on his pants before squeezing Mikasa's hand with a force that would've broken a few fingers of any other person. "Steady, Eren" she muttered, bless her.

"...the 99th squad?" Jean was saying when Eren was able to tune in again, and it caught his attention, because it actually sounded concerned. He regarded at him, and alright, maybe he was said to be an unobservant person, but it would've been difficult not to notice how his right leg jerked up and down nervously. Jean abruptly drifted his gaze to him and blinked when his eyes met his, the pace of his leg slowing down visibly, so Eren couldn't help himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, he'd been a bit worried about the way he'd almost lost his shit a minute ago.

"No idea. I haven't seen them around, but who knows" Reiner answered to whatever Jean had asked, not looking very convinced.

"I'm going to ask the Commander" Connie stated, while Sasha nodded enthusiastically. "I have friends there."

"Me too" Sasha informed, getting up at the same time her friend did. "Anyone else coming?" At the total lack of response (Eren himself hung his head, still clinging to Mikasa's hand), she bit her nails a bit and asked again, doubtfully "Marco? I've seen you with that girl from the 99th... No? Alright. Bert, Reiner? C'mon!" It stuck Eren then that she didn't want to go, and intended to gather as many people as possible so they gave her the courage to go to ask with Connie. She wasn't the bravest person in the Legion, but she certainly made up for it, Eren mused, and perked up again when she added "Jean, please? Aren't you friends with that guy of the odd looks...? You know which one, with the spiky hair and that thing he does of squinting when..."

"Sure, pretty nice guy, but I think he's in the 100th" Jean was prompt to reply. Eren was pretty sure the 100th squad had been wiped out of the Earth a few weeks ago, and Jean seemed to remember it too, since he added, surly "Or maybe it was the 98th. Yeah, might be." Marco shot him a worried look, and that only confirmed Eren suspicions.

Sasha still hesitated for some moments before Connie dragged her away by the arm. As reluctant as everybody had been to accompany them, the whole table followed their movements, trying to read in their posture how it was going while they talked with Commander Erwin. Eren's breath was caught in his throat when he noticed how he took some things that were laying on the table in front of him and gave them to Connie and Sasha ( _shh, he's given them an extra task as a punishment for asking nonsense and he's handed them mops or dusters or something, that's it, that's all... please, please, let it be that_ ). But they turned away and walked towards them, and no, it didn't look like that at all.

Sasha was trembling as she sat up, a red ribbon tightly clasped in one of her hands and a locket on the other. Connie dropped himself on his seat and left a pair of thin-rimmed glasses on the table, pushing them towards Jean. "99th squad, after all" he explained, shrugging, but avoided everybody's gaze. "And they're all kinda dead."

The truth was, Eren didn't know anyone from the 99th squad, and yet he could almost hear Jean's voice a while ago ('the recruit I normally ask to lend me his glasses is... dunno where he is', he had said, making his best not to look troubled, but Eren had _known_ ), so he was feeling quite sorry for him... and expecting a striking reaction. Although, apparently, Jean only got those with him, because he merely stared silently at the glasses for some seconds, let out an "Oh" while looking blank, and hanged them on his shirt by the lug.

However, a while after, Eren saw him discussing something with Marco in a truly low voice. When he addressed it later (he could've chosen the moment better, that was true; if he thought about it, the middle of a fierce training guided by a sulking Levi probably wasn't the best option), Jean snapped at him and they ended up rolling on the ground and furiously hitting each other, in a way they hadn't done since _months_ ago. Eren loved sparring with him, but hadn't missed those painful clashes at all (still, he didn't stop it, because letting out steam always helped him when he was in a really bad mood and he _really_ hoped it did the same for Jean).

Also, after they managed to get out of Levi's sight (by his own command; he ordered them to run around the quarters for an hour as punishment), Jean looked like he wanted to apologize and didn't know how to (he was out of practice, that Eren could perfectly tell), so Eren pushed him against a wall and kissed him more strongly than they'd ever kissed before, drawing blood from his lips. He relished in the faint taste of copper when Jean pushed his mouth open with his tongue, ran it along his bottom lip, and finally let it touch his. Eren was aware he was surely being clumsy and awkward (hell, Jean was being too, despite his enthusiasm), but that didn't prevent him from mapping Jean's mouth, savouring a taste he identified at once ( _Jean, Jean, Jean, Jean_ ) even if he hadn't tasted it before and couldn't compare it to anything.

"Eren" Jean muttered, out of breath, his forehead resting against his, and for a brief second, Eren could almost reach out to touch the astonished and slightly lost expression his eyes were showing, before Jean came back to his senses and folded into himself again, shielding the deepest part of him from Eren as if he were going to use it against him (when he'd only ever wanted to make his own heart a shelter for it, protect it the same way he protected his own). But at least, he mused, he had gotten a proof that it was possible to pry Jean open, and pry him open he would.

* * *

_I'm bleeding out._  
_Said if the last thing that I do_  
_is to bring you down,_  
_I'll bleed out for you._  
_So I peel my skin and I count my sins,_  
_and I close my eyes and I take it in._  
_And I'm bleeding out,_  
_I'm bleeding out for you._

They'd thought they were ready, they had trained enough, but it wasn't all about training, Eren immediately realised that (broken cries for help ringing in his ears, desperate howls coming from every direction, Titans hovering over them with languid eyes). Crumbling illusions that cut like shattered glass.

Eren hadn't felt that broken and helpless since ( _mom is wailing while she hangs from my mouth, but this isn't my mouth so she isn't my mom, I don't care, I have to chew and scrunch and devour with relish and_ )... since never. He'd thought they were warriors, protectors of the people, but in the end they were just children fighting in a war that wasn't even theirs (it was humanity's, and children weren't humanity; they were just children, and they should yell in pain when they scraped their knees, not when they had their limbs ripped out by a giant). He fulfilled his mission, nevertheless, bitting his hand with unnecessary force until the only consistent thought in his mind was to kill them all, knock them down and make it stop, make everything stop.

He remembered near to nothing from the battle ( _so much blood, there's so much blood, is it mine?_ ), but when Mikasa pulled him out of the deflating Titan skin, she was cringing in pain and her left arm hung limply by her side. He tried to call her name, but he couldn't make a sound. She clutched him tightly against her chest, and yet... a bad feeling was creeping up his spine. He was so relieved he could have cried when Armin and Jean approached them to help her boost him to the horse; Armin lurched a bit and bruises were starting to bloom in Jean's face, but they seemed to be in one piece. Soon, before he could make sure everybody was alright, darkness snatched him away.

( _Everything is pain, everything is pain and I know I'm shouting but I can't hear myself. There's something between my teeth, oh Wall Maria, please don't let it be a person, please, please, but it can't, it can't be, I'm not a Titan. Not a Titan, still a monster, monster, monster, I'm eating a human alive, monster. Who is it, who, who, who? It's everyone, it's everyone, I'm eating everyone and everyone is dead and I'm crying but I'm a monster and I can't hear myself. Skinless faces, dismembered bodies, blood, a lot of blood. I'm drowning in the blood, I can't breathe, why I'm not dying, why. Mommy! Mommy, please. Armin, Mikasa, help! Help me, please, I'm sorry. Armin, Armin, help, Armin, Mikasa, Jean. Jean, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, help, Jean, please. Mommy, Mikasa, someone, help! No, everybody's dead, everybody's dead and I am not and I..._)

"Eren!" his name was a melody sang in two different voices that mingled perfectly, so he followed it out of his nightmares and into the real world.

His sister's familiar scent was there to welcome him, and even if Mikasa had a splint arm and looked frenzied, at least she was alive. She held him against the bloodied bed of the infirmary with a strong hand on his shoulder, while Eren glanced around and didn't fail to notice Jean, leaning on the wall in front of him. That calmed him a bit, but his breath was still ragged and his chest hurt from how hard his heart was beating. "I did that to you, didn't I?" he blurted out in hoarse voice, pointing at Mikasa's broken arm; the way her eyes widened and her face paled was all the answer he needed ( _I knew it, I fucking knew it_ ), and yet he insisted, screaming. "Didn't I, didn't I?! Tell me!"

Mikasa pressed her lips in a thin line and her expression hardened, which were all the signs that forewarned she was going to be silent like a dead man. It was Jean who answered instead, unmoving from where he stood, in an unwavering voice that didn't give his thoughts away at all "You did. She was trying to get a Titan off your back when you swiped her away as if she were a fly." Mikasa glared daggers at him in such a violent way it was almost physical, but Jean wasn't even looking at her; his eyes were locked with Eren's, and only then he noticed that Jean was shaking slightly while he spoke and his clothes were drenched in blood.

"Who else?" Eren inquired anyway, gripping his sheets tightly. "Who else did I hurt?"

" _Jean_ " Mikasa hissed, but Eren wanted to know, _had_ to know.

"Connie's got a few broken ribs and a recruit from the 103th has some minor wounds, but that's it. And before you ask, everybody from our squad is alive" he paused then, just for a second ( _what about the 103th, are they...? someone has died, someone has died_ ), and stared at Mikasa, reprovingly. "You said you'd go back to your infirmary room when he woke up."

"You are here too" she claimed, her ice queen beauty increasing while she stood up to him.

"But I haven't been told by the nurses that I need rest" Jean retorted, raising a brow in what would have probably been a threat if it hadn't been directed to Mikasa.

There was a conexion between them Eren hadn't seen before, a current of blended feelings flowing from one to another and back. Mikasa wasn't an easy person to bond with, but apparently Jean had finally managed to establish some kind of relationship with her, after being pinning over for more than a year. It hurt, it hurt as much as unexpected it was, because shit, they could actually work together, they were both sorta cool and clever and skilled and... and Eren was a guy Jean had been bickering with for as long as they had known each other, a guy he had kissed a few times (make that _a lot_ , but still) after guessing he actually didn't hate him that much (he could tell because that was exactly what had happened with him). They had nothing, they had just being externalizing the bad blood that was between them and... oh, Eren was _so fucked_.

"You'll better not let him do anything stupid" was Mikasa's final answer, as she leant to brush a strand of hair away from Eren's face (presumably to distract him from the insult) and grimaced. "I'll come back to see you tomorrow."

"That's not what being in the recovery room is supposed to imply" Jean huffed, but pushed himself away from the wall and bowed his head in approval. "Besides, he breathes in stupidity. The best I can do is to prevent him from killing himself, and only if we're lucky."

"Fuck yo-..."

"Whatever, just keep an eye on him" his sister interrupted, and walked past him and out of the room without even pausing for a goodbye kiss or anything, which probably was a good sign, but she didn't insist on the importance of assuring his safety either and _that_ was weird.

Jean was staring at him as if he were some kind of savage beast, and honestly, Eren was staring back at him the same way. They both looked about to attack, he noticed bitterly, circling each other and getting closer and closer. Memories of shouts and blood were still bright in the back of his mind, so that wasn't the ideal moment for another fight, not at all. "Where's Armin?" he abruptly asked, making Jean grimace in an odd show of hurt.

"Busy with paperwork, I guess. Commander Erwin dragged him away as soon as he stopped trembling."

"You aren't quite in that stage yet, are you?" Eren observed scornfully, sitting up, but he was just halfway when Jean crossed the room in two strides and pushed him back against the bed, not without enthusiastic resistance from his part. "The _hell_ are you doing?"

"That's my line, fucker!" Jean snorted, and refused to put his hand away no matter how much Eren wriggled under it (because it fucking _burned_ in a way Mikasa's definitely hadn't); in fact, he curled his fingers around the curve of Eren's shoulder and wouldn't let it go. "I would take it easy if I were you. I'm not saying Armin wouldn't be happy to see you, but everybody is still pretty shaken and you wouldn't want to freak them out further... considering you're missing half of your face, and believe me when I say it's pretty fucking disturbing to watch."

"Ah." Not the smartest line he'd ever come up with, but he'd gotten quite a revelation there. Thinking about it, his face _did_ ache, but really, _everything_ did.

"Yeah, 'ah'" Jean sighed, running his free hand through his hair, which was only useful to leave it even messier and also bloodied. "If you wanna know, you're missing a few fingers too and I'm not really sure a piece of your thigh is where it's supposed to. Don't wanna talk about how much of a fucking idiot you're right now, though, so... dunno, sleep a bit more or something; regrowing parts of your body must be tiring, not that I'd ever know."

"I'm fine" Eren replied stubbornly, even if he indeed was utterly exhausted. "Jerk" he added as an after-thought.

"I said sleep, moron. Count Titans jumping fences or whatever. Although those things are so dumb you probably couldn't even make them do that without screwing it up."

"Reminds me of you."

Jean must have sensed something in his voice, though ( _don't mention them, I don't wanna, don't wanna hear it, I'm..._ ), for he sat on the bed and tapped his fingers on it nervously, finally releasing Eren's shoulder. "See, I really need a bath, but if I leave before you fall asleep, Mikasa will fucking slice my throat. So here's what we'll do: I'll stay until you doze off and you can thank me by doing it _fast_. Like now."

There were new nightmares lurking under his eyelids, waiting for the perfect oportunity to pounce on him and tear him open, make him feel what the recruits had felt in the middle on the battle, when he was too lost in his bloodlust to fear like they had feared (and they had feared him too, he was sure of that; now he thought about it, he also feared himself, who wouldn't?). Sleeping was more of a punishment Jean could ever imagine, but that wasn't the only reason why Eren spitted "Why would I want you to stay?"

"Because someone has to wake you up if you start yelling in your sleep again" was the cold response, although he hadn't been expecting anything better.

A long pause followed that, and Eren took the chance to close his eyes, shielding himself from the world, to try to fall asleep. It wasn't that easy at all. How did he even do it before? Usually he was snoring at the second his body made contact with the bunk, but suddenly it was just impossible to let his consciousness slip away. He started fidgeting in the bed until Jean apparently lost his patience and let out a deep sigh "Can't sleep?" Before Eren was able to answer or even open his eyes again to glare at him, Jean covered them with a cool hand and mumbled something like "Fuck it" and then "Dare to laugh and I swear I'll fucking kill you."

Eren would've asked anyway, but Jean beat him to the punch again by making him lose his train of thought in an impeccable timing. He couldn't see him and he had no intention of interrupting, so practically all his senses were focused in Jean's raspy voice, which was singing really quietly in that weird language of his " _On me dit que nos vies ne valent pas grand chose, elles passent en un instant comme fanent les roses. On me dit que le temps qui glisse est un salaud que de nos chagrins, il s'en fait des manteaux pourtant quelqu'un m'a dit..._ " It wasn't sweet or mellow, but neither was Jean; instead it sounded surprisingly tuneful and held a soothing quality to it, a note intertwined with the next without as much as an oscillation, as if he had sung it a lot of times (maybe to himself, to calm his own apprehension; maybe it was just one of those bits of the past that found their way back into the present for no reason at all).  
Surely it wasn't the ideal melody to have as a background for his nightmares, so he might not have any at all (he wasn't sure it worked that way, but sleep was somehow begining to claim him and he just... let himself go).

( _It's snowing and mom is baking something; Armin is gonna stay for dinner isn't he, yes, he is. Home is warm, but we aren't at home, we're outside but it's so warm, but it's snowing and it's also so cold it hurts, it hurts and it burns but it boils. There's something red very far away, must be Mikasa, but Mikasa is right here. No, she isn't, she isn't and Armin doesn't wanna come, he's scared, why is he scared. He's scared of me, mum isn't so why is she running away. She's gonna save Mikasa, save her from who, what's happening? Mikasa, that's Mikasa, she isn't wearing her scarf so why the red... People. Lots of people. Lifeless eyes looking at me, they're crying but they are dead and dead people don't cry, but they are and they also scream, they're screaming at me, why am I here and they aren't? Stop, stop screaming, it hurts, stop screaming, stop crying, don't, I'm sorry, I haven't, I tried, I..._ )

"I've got you, Eren, I've got you" someone was mumbling in his ear, and suddenly he was also hyper aware of the pair of arms embracing him loosely and that he was sitting on the bed in the damn infirmary, but for Wall Rose and Maria, who the hell was screaming like that? It took him a few seconds before he completely came back to himself, and then the screaming turned into a faint shriek that gradually tuned down until Eren realised he was the one making that sound. The voice belonging to the person who kept him in a secure hold rang familiar, but Eren was too shaken and disconcerted to bother guessing whose it was. He trusted it, though, so he let them cradle him while he sobbed against their neck in a utterly undignified manner that would no doubt embarrass him later, when he was in his right mind.

The scent that clinged to the body he was leaning onto wasn't new either, but it had to wait to be recognized until he ran out of tears. By then, he was too painfully hollow inside to feel anything else but a light surprise when he looked up and found Jean fucking Kirstein. At first, he didn't even acknowledged it was him, because that fresh version of Jean was wearing the thin glasses of the dead recruit of the 99th and ( _he's gorgeous but I kinda want to vomit_ ) they highlighted angles of his face Eren had barely noticed before. Also, Jean was making a concerned expression instead of an annoyed one, and Eren was sure he had messed up his clean shirt because he had been pressing his chest against it and he was drenched in sweat, so looking at least mildly angry would have been more than normal, but Jean's frown wasn't transmitting that feeling in particular. It was really weird and Eren was still too out of it to be analyzing it.

"Jean" he rasped, clueless about what he wanted to say but confident he wanted to say _something_.

"Shit, Eren" Jean mumbled in response, pulling away and scrutinizing his face like he were some kind of unknown wonder. "What were you even dreaming about?"

"None of your business."

He hadn't planned it to come out that way, actually, but it just _did_ (fuck, he wasn't precisely living the best day of his life and he hadn't been a smooth talker even when he was in good shape, what did he expect?), which was a pity because Jean wasn't being as much as a jerk and then it was fucked; his eyes got colder, more distant, and Eren still longed for the unusual affection that had dragged him out of a nightmare once again. "Sorry for worrying, shitass. Next time I'll pat your head while you weep like a child and leave the room quietly when you finish, wouldn't want to bother sir Douchebag."

Eren spent what seemed like a long time musing over that, his jaw practically touching the floor for how widely it had opened. He was so not-in-the-mood for Jean's shit, so not-in-the-mood for anything that wasn't laying there and forgetting about the world (he was allowed to once in a while, wasn't he? because it was becoming damn overwhelming and he wouldn't be able to...). Jean had moved over and was pointedly ignoring him from the chair where he was sitting, on the other side of the room, a portfolio resting on his lap and his hands gripping it with unnecessary force. It was the longest Eren had ever taken to make a comeback, so it might have been justified how he jumped in his seat when he replied, with as much spite as he could muster "I may be a crybaby, but I least I fucking _care_ about things, things that aren't only my _own_ fucking existence! As if there wasn't anything more important to worry about."

It wasn't fair, he knew as much, but that part of his mind was isolated from the others and its voice couldn't be heard as anything else but a whisper, and although Eren easily paid attention to yells and everything that was loud and obvious, what was soft-spoken and subtle escaped his radar. So it wasn't fair, but it felt _true_ and rightful while he was saying it, like words he'd meant to tell him long ago but had forgotten or chickened out, like words Jean needed to hear. Rage directed his passion in a twisted way that made him ignore Jean's sharp "For Wall Sina, _shut the fuck up_ , Jäeger" and how ragged it had actually been.

"No, _you_ shut the fuck up! You come around with your fucking smug attitude of yours and think it's fucking fine to wreck people's dreams, just because you have none of your own! It isn't our fucking fault that you are too coward to believe in anything, Kirstein!"

"How would you know?!" Jean yelled in response, getting up and walking a few steps towards him before stopping right in his tracks. He took a deep breath as if to calm himself, and that only made Eren angrier somehow. "Don't talk shit about things you have no fucking idea about, _Jäeger_ " he hissed, his knuckles turning white from how strongly he was clenching his hands around the portfolio.

"But I know perfectly well what I'm talking about, _Kirstein_! I'm talking about the most self-centered,  narcissistic shit to ever grace this planet!" It probably wasn't helping his recover, forcing himself to sit up like that and scream back (his tiredness hadn't magically disappeared just because that fucker had pissed him off, either), and yet he was too far gone to even fathom the idea to put an end to it. "Fuck, it's about time you hear this, it's fucking incredible no one has ever had the guts to tell you before! I don't believe all that crap you sputtered about applying for the Survey Corps out of the pure goodness of your heart; you arsehole have never agreed with any of the Legion's ideals, I bet you've never agreed with anyone's ideals at all, you've got your head stuck too far up your arse for that and if you think I'll...!"

" _Shut up_! Goddammit, I swear I'll beat the living shit out of you if you don't shut your fucking big mouth right at this second."

"You have to listen to...!"

"I don't have to listen to any of your shit, Jäeger! What's even your fucking problem?!"

"You wanna know what's my fucking problem?!" He had already crossed the line, he had fucking crossed the line and was playing rope with it and everything he was saying would come back to bite him in the ass, he was well-aware of that, and yet... Jean had asked, Jean wanted to know, so Jean would get his damn answer. "My fucking problem is that you don't fucking care about anything! Not the Legion, not your mother, not your friends, and not me! You don't fucking care at all!"

"You think I don't fucking care?!" He probably deserved more than that, but he was astonished anyway when he got a slap in the face in the form of the portfolio being angrily flung at him. "You think I don't fucking care about _you_? Well, fuck you, Jäeger, I'm fucking done with your shit!" The  dramatic exit was magnified even more when the documents that the portfolio had been keeping were sent flying around the room, right in time to see Jean out.

Eren stayed still on his bed, dumbstruck, papers fluttering mockingly here and there and crashing against him from time to time, until the conmotion quietened and turned into a heavily silent atmosphere ( _what have just happened?_ _hell I'm not even completely awake, how did we even get to this?_ ). It seemed impossible, but it got worse, because Eren slowly stepped out of bed to gather the papers (just to have something to do, something that didn't involve sleeping, no matter how much he wanted it; the probability of new nightmares had no doubt increased wildly after such a fight) and was met by a sight he never thought he would face. There were no boring documents, no depressing stadistics of the Legion's survival rate. Instead, tons of elaborate drawings were scattered around the floor and the bedsheets, tons of drawings of _him_.

Maybe he wasn't the only theme of all the drawings, but he was the one which appeared the most. Colored or shaded, detailed drawings or mere sketches, it didn't matter. Some of them were landscapes: a part of the forest in which the recruits had fought once or twice, and a few shots of Trost District; but the majority were portraits: Marco, Sasha, Connie, Mikasa, fairly everyone from the squad and some people (presumably from the Legion) Eren had barely caught sight of or had plainly never seen before (he spotted a particular redheaded girl too many times not to be curious)... and him, _especially_ him, lots of him everywhere and in any possible way (his smiling face gazing fondly at the  observer, him putting on a distant expression while he dreamily stared out the cabin's window, him angry, him laughing, _him_ ).

There weren't only beautiful (because they were, they damn were, how could Jean have been hiding such a talent from them, _robbing_ such a talent from them?), but they also seemed to be _alive_ , dragging the viewer in without trouble ( _Jean really gets people, doesn't he?_ because Marco had said so and Eren had laughed, but it was true, it had to be true if only for the way he had managed to capture they very  essence of the people he drew to put it into their eyes and posture, to bring them back to life in the paper; Eren could recognize himself in the drawings, had the urge to hug the sketched version of Armin and relocate Mikasa's scarf, because hell, they were _them_ , they were right there staring at him exactly like the real ones would, with the same light in their eyes).

The drawings just had so much soul put into them, so much _care_ , Eren instantly knew he had fucked it up for good.

* * *

_When the day has come_  
_but I've lost my way around,_  
_and the seasons stop and hide beneath the ground._  
_When the sky turns gray_  
_and everything is screaming,_  
_I will reach inside_  
_just to find my heart is beating._

Of course he would learn a mindblowing revelation the same day he exhausted himself to the point the nurses threatened to call the Corporal if he _dared_ to even appear to be attempting to get up. Of course he would need someone to stand up for him the same day Mikasa was trapped in the recovery room and Armin had a to-do list that was longer than the one of those who had died in the war. Of course he would have to ask for help to the only one that had ever maintained through thick and thin that there was something  undeniably good in Jean. If that was the world's way to make him pay for his mistakes, Eren would have very much prefered a kick on the balls.

Marco was so full of love and happiness and overall niceness he would explode one of those days, and Eren couldn't help feeling torn between jealously and gratitude every time he went to visit him over the next three days to see how he was doing and also (especially) tell him about Jean. Poor old Marco was working overtime to soften his friend's resolve to never ever _ever_ talk to Eren again, think about him, or even acknowledge his existence (in Marco's own words, which rephrased Jean's in a much kinder and  for all ages manner). Besides, Marco was an easy person to chat with, and a great source of Jean-related knowledge (yeah, Eren was still a bit sour over that, but hey, at least it had come useful).

The first day without Jean, Eren had noticed how cold winter actually was.  
It had slowly curled in his insides, an elusive creature which had pretended it wasn't even there until it had gained enough power to claim him as his own, and then it had extended its icy tentacles through his whole being, making him a lifeless plain whose only flashes of beauty were the occasional ilusions that the wisps of frosty air formed (reminders of old times, insinuations of what could have been and would never... delightful and painful in equal parts and at the same time, just like snow or ice itself; worth the unavoidable burn). Winter came later for Eren than for the rest of the recruits, taking advantage of a moment in which he was weaker (being deprived of all warmth and safeness his friends were, being forced to confront many things he definitely did not want to confront), but it came harder.  
The thought Jean could have been there to ease that building distressing feeling off, hadn't he chased him away like he did, made it almost unable to bear.

The second day without Jean, Marco had asked him if he'd had anything to do with how pissed his friend was for having 'lost' something of 'inestimable value'.  
Eren told him about the drawings he was still holding as hostages in the portfolio, and left the freckled boy speechless. Apparently, they were one of Jean's most tightly kept secrets, something he usually kept to himself not out of shame but of need of intimacy, of a place to go to where he could feel safe without conditions; Jean's drawings were _that_ important to him, and he had threw them at Eren's face just to make a point (so he either trusted him a lot or Eren had pissed him off  to unknown heights). Marco had given him a soft smile of the kind that had more feelings trapped inside the shown ones like a twisted riddle, but hadn't asked him to give the drawings back.  
They had became what held Eren together in those excruciatingly cold winter nights, when he woke up screaming more loudly than ever but had no one to comfort him, so he let the odd familiarity of the drawings envelope him and was lulled back to sleep by the outlines of his own face as Jean saw it.

The third day without Jean, Armin had finally come to see him at the infirmary, and the bags under his eyes were so unusually dark that Eren hadn't had the heart to reproach him his abandonment.  
He had brought with him both Hanji and news from the Legion, to narrate him the second while the first tested if Eren's body was regrowing and fixing everything that had to be regrown and fixed, and also made sure it was doing it all correctly. When they left to check on Connie and Mikasa, Eren curled into a ball in his bed and went through Jean's drawings all over again, finding details he had overlooked before and trying to guess what was Jean thinking while he drew this or that, if he did it out of fondness or fear or anxiety or rage (it wasn't that difficult; it could be glimpsed in how the strokes were made and which way the background had been done if any at all... or maybe he was just making things up to fill his head with false images of Jean, or even worse, he had started to know him much deeper by obsessing over those drawings much more than any sane person should have).  
But the third day without Jean wasn't the third night without Jean.

An unknown power forced him to leave his restless dreams, startling him into awakeness out of nowhere. When he opened his eyes, though, the first thing he saw was Jean. Jean, standing next to his bed and looking at him with an unreadable expression, Jean in flesh and blood and much more handsome than the hazy image of him Eren had been chasing in his mind, and the very first thought he came up with was ' _oh Wall Maria he's come to kill me_ '.

He stared at him like a deer would stare at a hunter, and Jean stared back in a similar fashion, just for a moment. Then, with slow hesitant movements, he sat up next to Eren and said quietly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips "Figured I could get my portfolio back."

"In the middle of the night?" Eren couldn't help asking, although he sounded a lot like a scared child. "Well, suit yourself" he mumbled, taking the portfolio from under his pillow and leaving it on the nightstand next to the bed. Jean nodded slightly and looked at it, but made no move to take it, so Eren tried in faint voice "Uhm, I'm... sorry?"

"Are you now? Should have told me this would be a historic moment, I'd have brought witnesses with me." The words carried such a badly concealed anger and hurt within, Eren actually felt bad with himself (well, _worse_ ).

"I'm sorry" he repeated more firmly this time, while he rose to a sitting position, and locked his eyes with Jean's for good measure. "I'm sorry and I mean it, alright? I had no right... no right to say anything I said, it was unfair from me and... it wasn't true, I know that now, so... that's it, I'm sorry. I know I deserve an epic punch for being such a jerk, but if you really wanna take advantage of that, at least please wait until I have all the parts of my body in their right place again."

"That's virtually impossible, Jäeger, since your _brain_ had never been in its right place  to begin with." It was harsh, but it was good too, yeah, it was good, because his surname hadn't been bitterly spitten and he would have sworn he'd caught an undertone of fondness. Although Jean was frowning deeply at him, looking troubled, and a large part of that harshness seemed to dissolve when he added "Also, you should stop being so careless about yourself, fuckard. Contrary to what it could seem, I don't actually enjoy seeing you torn in pieces."

That was not what Eren was expecting, not at all. If he treated it like a convoluted riddle and guessed to ridiculous levels, he could figure out that what Jean was implying was he'd been worried about him all that time and had only come back to make sure he was alright (which was sweet, but Eren still hoped for him to forgive and forget and all that; it might be too soon for that, though, probably). "It's fine" he was quick to assure, shrugging. " _I'm_ fine. It's not a big deal anyway, not when I cannot lose a limb that easily. And I have to make up for all those soldiers who can't recover like I can, haven't I?"

"No, you haven't" was Jean's stern answer, and suddenly his hand was on Eren's and he was so fucking thrilled he couldn't believe it (it was the first time he touched him in _three days_ ; it was so fucking pathetic he'd been keeping count and that he considered that to be a long time, but it really wasn't his fault, it was Jean's, definitely Jean's). "Remember when you told me that even if I wasn’t discouraged by my mother being an ass, it still was a horrible thing for her to be? How is it any different from you letting your limbs get ripped out by Titans and saying it doesn’t matter just because you can regrow them back?"

Eren opened his mouth, hesitated a moment, and closed it again. He should have known he would have picked up a few tricks from Marco in all the time they'd been friends, and leave it to Jean to make Eren feel like a total loser by turning his own words against him. He looked down at their clasped hands, relishing in the warmth that was slowly waking up the numb parts of himself (which was funny, because Jean's hand was as cool as always, maybe even cold), and that made Jean snort. "Fine, don't say anything, but keep that in mind, you dink. And move over, dammit."

It took him two entire seconds to grasp the meaning of the order, and then he was obeying like he had never obeyed before, his natural rebellion to authority being left aside to make space for Jean's body to fit in the tiny bed. He managed to do so, just barely, but Eren was content with how incredibly close he had to get for that, their legs tangled together between them before Jean made him turn away not to face him. Being unable to see him was a bit disappointing, but he had his back pressed against Jean's chest and that way he could feel his heart was beating at least as fast as Eren's. Also, warmth was sipping into his bones by then, thawing the last remains of the winter that had gotten a hold of Eren; even if the feeling didn't come from Jean (it came from his own very core, he was sure), it was related to him, so he had to thank him for it, since he knew he could never wish to get over winter without his help.

"I wanna kiss you" he mumbled, just because he felt like it, and Jean's arms tightened around him in a not-so-nice way.

"And I want you to go the fuck to sleep" Jean whispered back, although he nuzzled the point under his ear with his nose as if he wanted to place a kiss right there ( _do it, Jean, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, please_ ), but in the end he didn't. His breath grazed his skin in a really pleasing way, though. "Don't get confused, we're not all fine and dandy just because you stumbled over some deplorable apologies."

"But we'll be" Eren insisted softly, clutching his hand, and was met with no disagreement. That lifted a burden off his shoulders, but there was still something concerning him, something he had only been aware of right then, somehow. "Jean, how's it that I'm the only one who can't ever sleep peacefully?"

There was a pause after that, but it only stretched for so long before Jean replied "I don't think there's a single person in the Legion who's able to sleep peacefully. You're simply horrible at pretending, and obnoxiously loud too. Now sleep."

"You're always telling me to go to sleep."

"That's because you never do, and believe me, lack of sleep would make you even dumber than you already are."

"I'll forget I even heard that if you sing to me."

" _Eren_."

"Just a little bit. C'mon, it's just me."

" _Annoying_ you" Jean remarked, starting to sing softly anyway, and he didn't let his voice fade away until Eren's body loosened up noticeably.

True winter had been cold and harsh, but brief. And even if he would have to give the drawings back to Jean (unless he really wanted to get kicked), he would still have a newfound safe place of his own, one that Jean carried everywhere he went with the melody in his voice and the quiet affection of his gestures and those feelings that howled like wild animals and clawed to get out of Eren's chest whenever he was near.

 _You tell me to hold on,_  
_oh you tell me to hold on,_  
_but innocence is gone_  
_and what was right is wrong._


End file.
